


Card Sharp

by d_dandelions



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Gratuitous Gwent References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_dandelions/pseuds/d_dandelions
Summary: Geralt is good at Gwent. Jaskier isn't amused.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	Card Sharp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leviosally468](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviosally468/gifts).



> happy ~~belated~~ birthday to my x-wing wingmate XD <3 hope you like it!

Growing up, everyone had warned Jaskier about witchers, their lack of compassion and humanity, their cruelty. In adulthood, he’d had to learn to ignore the judgemental whispers of townsfolk who saw him with Geralt but, even without listening to the words, it was hard to miss the sentiment behind them. Travelling with a witcher? _Loving_ one, no less? Down that path lay despair, heartbreak and ruin. 

Halfway through the third round of his fourth Gwent game with Geralt, still without a single win to his name, Jaskier’s starting to wonder if they all might have been onto something. 

So, okay, maybe he should have learnt by now not to make too many assumptions about Geralt’s skills. But this.... this just isn’t _fair_. 

Geralt got to be good at things like tracking, monster hunting and making Jaskier feel weak in the knees without ever really seeming to try. _Jaskier_ got to be good at writing, singing and anything that involved human interaction. And _Gwent_. Sure, they’d never sat down and _talked_ about that, but Jaskier had assumed, after so many years spent together, that the _understanding_ was there. 

Geralt, without any consideration for their unspoken arrangement, based on _consideration_ and _trust_ , plays a Scorch card and summarily decimates the entirety of Jaskier’s minimal lead. 

Out of the four games they’d played this was the first to even require a third round, Geralt having won the others decisively within two. Jaskier had really thought he might have it this time, that he might be able to upgrade this evening from utterly humiliating to simply extremely embarrassing. He stares forlornly down at their cards, spread out over a large tree stump that was proving to be a rather effective makeshift table, and then turns his pleading eyes to Geralt, hoping he’ll have more luck with them now than he had before he’d started sleeping with the witcher. 

“Why? _How_?”

Unmoved, Geralt shrugs and tilts his head away to hide the half-smile he always seems to wear when he’s deliberately hiding ballad-worthy information and finding the whole practice far more entertaining than he should be. Without a hint of ceremony or remorse, he claims his winnings from Jaskier’s coin pile and gathers up his deck to reshuffle. 

The coin is a symbolic gesture more than anything else, they’ve long since given up on separating their finances and all the money will go back into the same pouch at the end of the night, regardless of who wins. 

But it’s the _principle_ of the thing. 

Jaskier’s coin has dwindled alarmingly and he suspects he’s only one more loss away from having to wager his clothes. Or possibly sexual favours. He’s sure he could find a way to live with that last one. He thinks about splitting the last of his coin into smaller bets, to give himself an extra chance or two, but he simply can’t stomach the indignity of lowering the stakes at this stage of the game. He reluctantly pushes the whole pile to the centre of the stump and scowls at his cards when Geralt matches the bet easily. 

He looks so infuriating _smug_ about it all that Jaskier considers running off to slay a wyvern in single combat, just to show him how it feels. He wrinkles his nose in memory of the awful stench that had clung to Geralt for days after his last wyvern contract and decides he’ll invest his spite into brewing better witcher potions than Geralt instead. 

The first round goes easily to Geralt but Jaskier shakes himself from plans of petty revenge with enough time to make a comeback in round two _and_ save a few of his more powerful cards for the next round on top of that. His confidence lasts until partway through the third round, a close match in which neither had thus far managed to pull more than two or three points in front of the other, when Geralt plays a card with an unmistakable smugness that fills Jaskier with dread. He looks at the card Geralt had just put down, takes in the familiar name, the floppy brown hair, the _lute_ , and stares at the witcher in near-dumbstruck horror. 

“You _wouldn’t_.” 

Not only was Geralt going to beat him _again_ he was going to use Jaskier’s very own Gwent card to do it. This was _not_ a downside of Continent-wide fame and recognition that he’d anticipated. 

Much to Jaskier’s chagrin, it turns out that Geralt, the absolute bastard that he is, _would_. 

“For fuck’s _sake_!” Jaskier throws the rest of his useless cards haphazardly across the stump with a frustrated huff. “It’s all luck, anyway.” 

“Maybe.” Geralt says, smirking as he claims the last of Jaskier’s coin pile with an air of smug finality. “Either way, you’re out of coin.” 

“Tomorrow night we’re having a singing contest,” Jaskier mutters, not at all sulkily, under his breath, ignoring Geralt’s scoff. He looks at the empty space previously occupied by his coin pile and sighs. Sexual favours it will have to be, then. “I’m finding myself a little short on funds for another round, yes. But perhaps…” he stretches, slow and deliberate, and tilts his chin up to better expose the line of his throat to Geralt, “I have something _else_ of value to offer?” 

Geralt snorts his amusement but Jaskier doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick briefly down to Jaskier’s loosely fastened doublet and the deep breath he draws in through his nose to better take in the bard’s scent. Even more telling is how little time it takes him to shuffle his deck and deal out his hand. Jaskier hides his laugh behind a cough. 

The witcher can play unaffected all he likes. Jaskier knows how to work his audience. 

“Just you wait.” Jaskier fidgets in eager anticipation. Maybe the previous games hadn’t gone his way but now, with his _pride_ and _dignity_ on the line, there’s no way he can lose. “I hope you haven’t made any plans for that coin, because I’m ready to take it all back.”

Geralt wins in five moves flat.

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to various gwent themes from tw3 while i was writing this because my commitment to verisimilitude knows no bounds


End file.
